


The Empire Strikes Back

by dionvsia



Series: Fullmetal: A Star Wars Story [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dionvsia/pseuds/dionvsia
Summary: After blowing up the Death Star two years prior, Edward Elric is thrown into a new adventure with the rebel alliance - and soon finds out something he wishes he hadn'tSequel fic!





	The Empire Strikes Back

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, it's finally here!! Or at least the first chapter!  
> Updates might be... splotchy until the end of June, because school is absolutely hectic now with finals coming up (plus organizing music concerts :/ the life of a band nerd) but I'm really excited to be finally getting this out!  
> Obviously, this is the second part to the series, so if you haven't read A New Hope I'd recommend you start there before venturing out into this monster.  
> Anyway, enough rambling from me. Enjoy the fic!!!

The wind whips at Edward's hat, ruffling the fur around and biting into his exposed skin. It was the complete opposite of what he was used to - the hot desert of Tatooine was a stark comparison to the frigid wasteland of Hoth. Everybody was cold and miserable, and Ed’s automail had been aching non-stop.

So what if he’d blown up the Death Star, he was still only a Commander - a rank which was sketchy at best. Everybody was assigned to surveillance rounds. Even Alphonse had gone out for his fair share, bitching and complaining the entire time, but he’d still gone out as much as the lower-ranked officers. 

So Ed was stuck out here for two days a week, either in a fighter - which was greatly preferred - or out on a tauntaun, like now, frozen down to the bone and miles away from base. It’d been like this for the past year and a half, waiting for the Empire to find them and bring an attack. 

Hoth was relatively safe, and that was the only good thing about it - but the rebellion was too smart to let their guard down, even on an outer-rim planet like this. 

Ed had had a birthday on Hoth, and was nearing another in a few weeks time. He was nineteen now, and didn’t feel any different than eighteen had. Everything still felt hollow. 

He still felt the screaming from Yavin, the phantom pain of a couple of thousand beings dying ( _ because of you _ his mind reminded him, never let him forget it). He doesn’t like to think about the battle, not about the people he’d killed, the blood that was now on his hands. Riza had told him not to think about it like that, but how could he not? He wasn’t a soldier, no matter what rank the rebellion had slapped on him with the honours he didn’t deserve. He was just a kid who didn’t know what he was getting into. 

And it kept him up, some nights. Tossing and turning in the barracks across from Winry. There were some nightmares - ones where the souls from the philosophers stone they’d destroyed haunted him, chasing after him and screaming - and after a while, Ed was given his own room. 

Nobody explicitly said why he’d been given an officer's room, but he knew well enough why.

His new room was across from Alphonse’s, and he’d taken to spending time with the other blonde when both of them were up too late - sometimes they’d train, other times they’d just sit across from each other with books in their laps, silence filling the space between them and calming both of them down.

NIghtmares came in different breeds, he’d learned quickly, but they all stemmed from some kind of guilt. 

Ed swore against the cold and pulled out his communicator, pulling down his balaclava just enough to not muffle his voice. The cold stung like hell and he hated it. 

“Echo three to Echo seven,” He said, holding down the button. “Do you read me, Ling?” 

The comm crackled before Ling’s voice came through, sounding tinny and distant. “ _ Loud and clear. What’s up?”  _

“I finished my circle, there's no life readings anywhere that I can pick up.” 

_ “What did you expect? There's no enough life on this ice chunk to fill a space cruiser.”  _ Ling says.  _ “I'm gonna head back.” _

Ed laughed at that, smirking to himself and rubbing at his face. 

“Yeah, that’s true. I’ll see you back at base.” 

The comm crackled again and fell into silence, dull static filling the air before he turned it off. He really didn’t want to admit it, but Ling was keeping him up at night too - the way the man looked at him, the way he touched him. It was driving him insane, and he didn’t know what to make of  _ any _ of it. 

He really didn’t like thinking about the kiss on Yavin, after they’d won - how it had made him feel. It could’ve been completely meaningless. He’d seen Ling kiss Lan Fan, too, once the drinking had started, and he’d even kissed Al at one point - which had ended with Ling getting punched in the mouth.

So Ed didn’t know, he had no idea what he was feeling. 

And then there was Winry - he knew that he loved Winry, had known since before he knew what that word even meant - but again, he didn’t know. Maybe she felt the same way, maybe she didn’t. He hoped that she did, but it was turning into a hollow hope.

So Edward sulked, as he was wont to do. He spent more time alone - training, mostly. Trying to reach out into the force and  _ connect _ with something. 

Sometimes Riza would join him, explaining principles and rules that she’d spent years operating beside. She had never been a jedi herself, and Ed could see the sadness in her eyes while she repeated things she’d heard said by friends she no longer had, but she was his next best teacher.

Other times Alphonse would slip into the room behind Ed and train with him, brandishing a broom handle in lieu of a lightsaber and laughing as the two of them fought. Edward liked those days the best - he felt at ease with Alphonse, as if the other boy was something he’d been missing - and had even asked the boy if he wanted to train after patrols a few times. 

Everything felt easier when he was with Al, as if the Force sang louder in the blond’s presence. It was easier to empty his mind. To let go of the present world and float off. 

And then - 

_ Crack. _

Ed felt the tauntaun underneath him start to move, making a noise and trying to throw him off. He whips his head around to look at the source of the sound, just in time for - 

His head to make contact with the ground. 

  
  


+

  
  
  


“You decide to take this apart now?” Ling shouts up at Lan Fan, where the girl was perched on top of the Falcon. 

She's covered in 10 different layers of wires and grease - the entire navigation system was torn out around her, as well as what was probably the communications array. Lan Fan just shrugs, continuing to fiddle with internal wiring of the ship.

Ling throws his hands into the air and groans, pulling the hat off his head and running fingers through his hair. Of course Lan Fan had to take shit apart  _ now _ , right when they were supposed to be leaving. 

He didn’t want to stay here any longer, not with Elric’s stupid attitude and not with the prince breathing down his neck to help out with the ‘efforts’. There was nothing anywhere that said he was obligated to help them - he’d done his part, and then some. 

The base was too cold to take his jacket off, but he unbuttoned the front and shoved his hat into the inside pocket. Stupid cold, stupid rebels, stupid Edward. He didn’t need this right now.

“Hey, Ling!” 

Ling turned around and glared, eyeing Alphonse as he runs up holding a clipboard. “What?” 

The kid could use a hair cut, the ends were getting too long, brushing around his face is wisps - if he wanted to look even  _ more _ like Elric, he was accomplishing it. 

Al scratched the back of his head with a pen and frowned. “You're leaving?” 

“You knew we weren’t sticking around longer than we had to.” 

“It hasn’t been that long…” Al trails off. 

Ling leans back against the falcon and crosses his arms, smirk growing on his face. 

“It’s been almost two years, kid.” He says. “I got debts to pay, just like everybody else.” 

Al frowns, hugging the clipboard closer to his chest. It was true - Ling and Lan Fan had been with them for much longer than they were obligated, which had been zero since the beginning. 

“Now you decide to find some morals?” 

Ling laughed, putting a hand down on Al’s shoulder and smiling. “Had to find them at some point.” 

“I guess so,” Al sighs. “Where's Edward? Weren't you two together?” 

Ling narrows his eyes and stands up straight, “What do you mean? He isn't back yet?” 

Al shakes his head and makes a face, disappointment turning into concern. 

“Fuck, I need to go.” Ling shoves off the side of the falcon and turns around, shoving past Alphonse. “Lan Fan! Keep fixing the ship!” 

He wouldn’t say he breaks into a run, but the air whips past him and throws his hair out into his face. Ling feels his mind race - Ed can’t still be out there, the doors are closing soon, everybody else was back at least an hour ago. It was already reading minus fifty outside, if Ed was still out there…

No, he wasn’t still out there. But he wasn’t in his room either when Ling ran by, and he wasn’t with Riza because she was in the command room with the Generals. He felt his heart rate pick up more, rising in his throat like stone. 

Maybe he does care about Ed. Maybe. 

“Hey!” He yells at one of the marshal’s, rounding on the corner to the hangar bay. “Where’s Elric?!” 

The marshal gives him a look. 

“He hadn’t signed in yet, sir. We were just about to close the doors.” 

“Close the doors? If he hasn’t signed in then he’s still out there!” Ling shouts, running past the marshal and growling in frustration. “Give me a tauntaun. I’m going out there, since none of you seem to care!” 

The marshal jogs up to him and sighs, writing something down on his clipboard. “You’ll both freeze if you go out in this, the doors are closing soon.” 

“Yeah, well.” Ling climbs onto the animal and zips up his coat, pulling his goggles back onto his eyes and gritting his teeth. “Guess I’ll see you in hell.” 

When he crosses the threshold to the outside, Ling swallows around the lump in his throat and tries not to think about it. He’d get the stupid kid himself if nobody else cared enough. 

He tried to ignore the way his breathing was getting harder the further he got from base. 

  
  


+

  
  


Ed wakes up to a bloody nose clogging his breathing, and a feeling of falling that almost makes him yell out in shock. Opening his eyes is difficult against the cold - his goggles were gone, and the balaclava that had been covering his face was pulled down out of reach.

Upside down was the last way he expected to find everything. 

His whole body hurt, both from the exertion of hanging upside down and from whatever had hit him, and his head ached like nothing he’d ever experienced before. 

The cave around him was dim, and he could tell it was late evening. That was bad. They closed the blast doors to the base at dusk… which would be right around now. 

Fuck. 

Ed tries not to think about that, instead focusing on his surroundings. His lightsaber was on the ground underneath him, just out of reach, and his boots were frozen into the ceiling. 

Obviously, whatever had attacked him didn’t plan on inviting him for tea. It was probably some kind of stupid fucking snow monster, knowing his luck, or some psycho human looking to make him into soup. Either way, he needed to get his lightsaber.

He tried reaching for it, which resulted in nothing but flailing. Screw him for being so short, it wasn’t his fault. Now he was going to die because his stupid genes didn’t account for another few inches. 

Okay, no, everything would be fine. Ed just needed to clear his mind. He needed to focus on what he wanted to do. The force would help him, that’s what it was for. 

Sure, he’d never actually accomplished moving things before like Mustang had been able to, but there’s a first time for everything, right? And a near death scenario should be enough fuel to get it working. 

So he tried. Edward let himself go, stopped thinking about whatever was lurking in the cave just around the corner, and let himself breath through the frigid air. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Mustang had taught him how to channel into the force properly, all he needed to do was let it do it’s thing. 

In. 

Out. 

In. 

The lightsaber moved a bit, and Ed cursed under his breath. He tried again. 

Everything fell away after a second, his mind going completely blank, breathing evening out into a steady pulse. 

In.

Out.

And then the ‘saber was in his hand, and Ed reached up out of instinct, slashing at the ice encasing his feet and letting himself drop to the floor - immediately losing the balance in his legs and falling onto the ice. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, feeling pain shoot up his spine. 

Of course the automail was frozen. It had to be. That was just his luck. Even the cold-weather automail had a breaking point - it was just too damn cold out.

He tried standing up again and fell, feeling his face hit the ground hard. 

Fuck, he doesn’t know what to do. The weather is starting to get at his head, and Ed feels dizzy. He shakes his head and starts to move, crawling forwards on his stomach. No, he can’t die. Not yet. 

  
  


+

  
  


The temperature gauge on Ling’s wrist breaks negative fifty-five about a half-hour after he leaves base, and he starts losing the feeling in his fingers about an hour after that. It’s getting hard to see - the sun had set a long time ago and the clouds were too thick to provide any light from the stars. Ling felt isolated, for the first time in a long time. Like he was completely alone in the universe. 

The last time he’d felt like this was when he was a kid, when him and Lan Fan had left home for the first time. They’d been so scared - but they had to keep moving.

That’d been almost six years ago, now. The feeling was exactly the same now as it had been then.

He doesn’t know which way he’s even going at this point, and the tauntaun he’s on is starting to slow down too much for his liking. 

Ling starts to think about how he could die out here. Completely alone. All over stupid Edward Elric no less.

It would suck if he never got to tell the kid how he really felt. 

  
  


+

  
  


_ “Go to the Dagobah system… Edward…”  _

“...Roy?” 

_ “Go there, to find the truth.”  _

Ed reaches out, staring at the faint image of Roy floating just above the snowbank. Almost like a hologram, but not. It’s too clear. 

_ “All things will become clear when you find the truth.” _

  
  


+

  
  


“I’m sorry, your highness. There’s been no contact from Mr. Yao or Commander Elric.” 

Al leans against the command table and wraps an arm around himself, ignoring the hand on his shoulder from Riza. They would come back, they always came back. Edward wouldn’t abandon him like this. 

The rebellion couldn’t lose two of it’s officers like this. 

Alphonse couldn’t lose Ed like this. 

“Keep scanning.” He says.

“Sir,” Riza says, “Hayate’s been scanning for the past two hours. I’m sorry, there really hasn’t been anything.” 

“I said keep scanning, Major Hawkeye. That’s an order.” He snaps, shrugging her hand off his shoulder and moving to walk away. 

His mind wouldn’t stop racing. He didn’t want to think about Edward being out there, possibly alone if Ling hasn’t found him yet. It was nearing negative seventy-three now, wind flags russling loudly against the base’s thick walls and rattling into his skull. 

The doors had been closed an hour ago now. Metre-thick metal separating all of them from the outside world. 

All he could do was wait. 

Al hated waiting, more than he hated anything else in the world. Waiting meant there was something wrong - that something could go wrong at any minute. 

He’d waited for his mother too many times now to believe that people always come back. 

Al didn't know what to tell Winry when he saw her - how to tell her that her best friend was missing. 

He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he walked down the hallway, wishing that there was something more he could do.

  
  


+

  
  


Ling finds him, eventually. When they’re both on the verge of death. 

Ed isn’t conscious, but he’s alive - Ling can feel his pulse against the thick balaclava, beating away slowly. 

“C’mon, Ed. Don’t do this to me.” He says, pulling at the layers of clothes when he loses the pulse, almost crying in relief when he finds it again. 

“You have to stay alive. There’s things I still have to tell you.” 

The last part is almost a whisper, lost against the wind and snow of the night. 

He pulls Edward further into the snow shelter, huddling close to the boy to keep him warm. 

Ed’s lips were a dark purple colour, and his cheeks were raw with frostbite. It would be a miracle if the medics didn't have to fix his nose once they got back, the tip of it looking dark and angry. 

All they had to do was make it through the night, it couldn't be that hard. 

Ling spent most of the time just staring at Edward, running his fingers along the boys face and watching as his eyes twitched in sleep. It was to keep the blood flowing, he reasoned, not just because he wanted to touch Ed. 

“You really got into it bad this time.” He said, stroking Ed’s bangs back from his face. “Lan Fan is going to kill me for this.” 

He tried to keep talking, to keep himself awake mostly. It was comforting in a way - talking to someone who couldn't hear him - and Ling felt relaxed despite the cold. 

“She’s really the only friend I've ever had, you know how she is. We’ve been together since we were five years old.” 

Ling stopped when Ed shifted, moving onto his side and pressing in closer to Ling’s side. 

“I'll tell you about it another time, though.” He says, shifting down himself so he was laying beside Ed. “Let's try to get some sleep.” 

  
  


+

  
  


When morning finally broke, Alphonse woke with a sore neck and far too much coffee still running through his veins. He’d fallen asleep at one of the comm stations, flipping between radio channels for  _ something _ . Even when Sheshka had told him the storm was too thick to get anything through, Al had waited. 

It was the crackling of the radio that actually woke him up, coming through tinny and through too much static.

_ “Echo Seven to base. Care to come pick Elric and me up from this fucking cave in Delta Sector?”  _

Al’s heart dropped, mouth falling open before he scrambles with the radio gear in front of him, taking the headset off the shelf and pulling it over his head. 

“Ling!” He shouts, standing up so quickly from his chair it falls backwards. “How’s Ed?!” 

Al spots a radioman in the corner of his eye and snaps at him, pointing towards the door and mouthing ‘ _ Delta Sector’ _ . They’d been putting up with him all night, one more task wouldn’t kill them. 

_ “He’s alive. I’ll explain when we get back.”  _

“No,” Al says, feeling the tension seep back into his body. “You can explain yourself now. Your rescue won’t be there for at least a half-hour.” 

Ling’s quiet for a minute, and Al thinks that maybe the man is ignoring him - but he speaks again after a while. 

“ _ He won’t wake up. I don’t know what’s wrong.”  _

Al takes a breath. 

_ “It’s been like this since I found him.”  _

He doesn’t want to think about the possibilities of advanced hypothermia - which ranged from lost fingers and toes to something like brain damage. He didn’t want to hear what Ling was saying, even though he knew there was something wrong before he asked. 

Al had felt it, like someone had poured hot wax into his lungs. He knew Ed was hurt, but he didn’t want to hear it. 

_ He might not ever wake up _ , the voice in his head said - over and over again until it was the only thing he could hear.  _ It’s your fault for sending him out right before a storm.  _

Al felt anger spike in his chest, and he didn’t even register thrusting his hand out and denting the front of the radio panel - the line squelching in his ear for a second before going dead. The numb feeling in his knuckles was enough to let him know that at least one of his fingers were broken.

He knew the sharp, jagged edges of metal were digging into his skin, and after a moment he started to feel the harsh stinging of an open wound. It didn’t calm him down, though. A broken hand was only a small part of his overreaction - and he  _ knew _ he was over-reacting. He felt tears prick at his eyes, and didn’t try to stop them from falling. 

Alphonse felt the anger leave his body, slowly. It was replaced by a heavy guilt - of not being able to do anything useful, being safe when Ed had been in danger. For putting Ed in the situation he was in, because General Armstrong had said that Al was playing favourites setting the patrol roster.

He pulled his hand back and saw the panel covered in blood, and it took him a moment to realize it was  _ his _ blood. His knuckles were all pushed inward and cut open, blood seeping steadily from the wounds - the sight almost made him sick, watching the tendons underneath damaged skin jump as he tried to move them.

Since when had he been able to hit something _ that  _ hard? 

The room caught up to him after another moment, and Al finally hears the sergeant beside him yelling, asking if he was alright and wanting to know what happened. 

Alphonse just shrugged the man off, turning around and leaving the room without saying anything. He didn’t have anything to say - not right now. 

  
  


+

  
  


Edward wakes up four days after he’d been brought in, choking on the ventilator tube and panicking. The medical staff pull him out of the bacta tank a few minutes later, apologizing as they pull the tube out of his throat, leaving him with thick underclothes and a new uniform. 

He doesn’t bother with the uniform top - it’s too tight underneath his sweater anyway - but he pulls the comfortable cargo pants on and clasps the belt together before leaving the room. 

There’s a short hallway heading out of the bacta wing, where he knows at least Winry will be waiting for him, with a long mirror hanging across the second half. Ed’s heart drops when he sees himself, face scarred and bruised to hell, reversed frostbite still healing across his ears and nose. 

The phantom image of his father burned behind his eyes, as he stared at his reflection. 

Ed let himself breath for a moment, watching his shoulders move up and down in the mirror. It wasn’t exactly guilt that he felt pooling in his gut, but it was a similar feeling. 

He pushed the door open, finally, arms moving to wrap around his shoulders from the cold air outside the bacta wing. Winry and Alphonse are both there, sitting across one of the benches - Winry stands up first, eyes wide as she steps forward towards Ed. She shakes her head and pulls him into a hug, fitting her face against his neck and holding onto the back of his head. 

They’re almost the same height now, he notices, wet spots soaking into the shoulder of his sweater.

After a few moments she pulls back, wiping her nose on her sleeve and laughing brokenly. 

“You look awful, Elric.”

Ed grins, “You should see the other guy.”

She laughs again, nervously, covering her face and hiccuping. “I’m so glad you’re okay, it was- red squad picked you up you were just- I thought you were going to die.” 

“I couldn’t die, Win. You would’ve killed me.” 

She genuinely laughed, then, wrapping her arms around his waist again. She was warm, and Ed leaned into the hug, grateful for the extra warmth. Winry had always been warm. 

“I’m sorry, Edward.” Alphonse said, finally, stepping forwards as Winry pulled back from the hug. “I’m so sorry. It was my fault you were even out there-”   
“Stop, Al.” Ed shakes his head. “If it hadn’t been me it would’ve been somebody else. Don’t apologize.” 

The younger blonde looks down, guilt radiating off of him. He picks at the edge of the cast on his arm and frowns. “Still, for what it’s worth. I’m sorry.” 

Ed could feel his consciousness in the force, the repeated  _ guilt _ and  _ my fault _ bouncing around the inside of Alphonse’s head. He put a hand on the taller blonde’s shoulder and squeezed, unspoken words being understood immediately as he felt the noise fall away. 

He doesn’t ask what Al did to his arm, the bruised fingers poking out told him enough to infer. 

“Where’s Ling?” 

Winry rolled her eyes and huffed, “Packing up, with everybody else. Though he’s  _ refusing _ to take any of our gear.” 

Ed’s eyes narrowed. “Packing? Why?” 

“We’re vacating.” Al says, crossing his arms over his chest. “He found an Imperial drone in gamma sector, the Empire is probably on their way right now.” 

“Guess I missed a lot,” Ed sighed. “What do you guys need help with?” 

“Nothing, right now.” Winry said. “But you should get ready to fly, if you’re up for it. First wave is leaving in a few hours.”

“Fuck, is that why I got woken up halfway through the healing cycle?” 

Alphonse and Winry both wince at that, Al looking back down at the floor and worrying his lip. 

“Listen, it’s fine.” Ed says. “It’s not like I can’t handle it.” 

Winry gives him a small smile and starts to move towards the door, grabbing her flight jacket off the back of the bench and pulling it over her shoulders. “I’ll see you out on the floor, Ed. Be careful.” 

The door closes behind her, and Ed feels the heavy weight fall back onto his chest. 


End file.
